The 5 Best '80s Rush Songs

Both musically and literally, Canada’s definitive prog rock trio transitioned into the 1980s with Permanent Waves, a record that’s often seen as one of Rush’s finest collections. It very much served as the stylistic bridge between the decades, with one foot planted in the extravagance of vintage progressive rock and the other foot moving into the shorter and simpler synth rock that successor Moving Pictures would perpetuate.

Three-part finale “Natural Science” demonstrates that well. Created with natural sounds such as splashing water and echoes from mountains, it moves elegantly from a pensive acoustic ballad to a full-blown prog rock odyssey full of urgent tempos, funky bass playing, alluring melodies, humanist lyricism and exciting segues between movements.

It's an all-encompassing representation of the group’s specialties, and it ranks as a top-tier Rush composition in general.

1985’s Power Windows began Rush’s multi-album partnership with producer Peter Collins (who brought his signature “British pop sensibility” to the synth-heavy prog rock/new wave sequence). Although the album as a whole isn’t particularly beloved, it’s difficult to find fault with fourth track “Marathon” since its contemplative commentary on racing to achieve goals is delivered so cinematically and engrossingly.

Sure, its electronic percussion, heavenly choir and doomy synths are a bit dated by now, but in hindsight, they add to the song’s charm and ambition as well.

Plus, Alex Lifeson’s shimmering guitar strums and impassioned solo are enticing, as are Geddy Lee’s uplifting hooks and encouraging guidance (“From first to last / The peak is never passed / Something always fires the light / That gets in your eyes”).

It's nearly impossible not to smile and reflect on your own path in life as "Marathon" plays.

If “Natural Science” closes Permanent Waves by highlighting Rush’s proggy side, lead single “The Spirit of Radio” (which laments the changing concentrations of FM radio) opens it by highlighting their expanding variety and tightly woven accessibility.

Lasting fewer than five minutes, it instantly grabs you with Lifeson’s hypnotic hammering and Neil Peart’s epic syncopation (all of which seamlessly glide into the song’s majorly straightforward direction).

It’s decorated with subtle timbres as it goes, too, allowing it to be sophisticated and striving without losing its radio-friendly appeal. In addition, Lee’s singing is emotional and relatable, and the inclusion of cheering crowds and reggae breaks exemplify Rush’s trademark adventurousness.

If Rush’s 1970s work was occasionally too esoteric for conventional audiences (both musically and conceptually), “The Spirit of Radio” was a proud reworking toward arena rock immediacy and mainstream acceptance.

Rush were undoubtedly under a lot of pressure to satisfy expectations after the behemoth that was Moving Pictures, but they handled it gracefully by doubling down on what worked before while further emphasizing their use of keyboards and commercial approachability. No one would argue that the result – 1982’s Signals – matched its predecessor, but it was far from a creative failure (especially since it gets going with the awesome “Subdivisions”).

Bolstered by Peart’s affective reflections on being raised in a suburb (“Growing up it all seems so one-sided / Opinions all provided / The future pre-decided / Detached and subdivided / In the mass production zone”), both his words and Lee’s melodies radiate enchanting poetic irregularity.

The arrangement is similarly whimsical yet sobering, with a perfect blend of conventional rock grittiness and ‘80s electronic dreaminess. Even Lee and Lifeson’s keyboard and guitar solos – respectively – are suitably modest but dramatic.

Intentionally or not, “Subdivisions” also channels the chilling synth-laden atmospheres of neo-prog titans such as Pallas, Marillion and IQ. As such, it’s simultaneously looking into the past, present and future.

Let’s be honest: Rush fans would be furious if we didn’t include the trio’s signature song on this list, right?

Just because something is overwhelmingly famous and adored doesn’t mean that it’s also artistically extraordinary, though, so Moving Picture’s standout selection still would’ve been discarded if it weren’t up to snuff.

Thankfully, “Tom Sawyer” is here by distinction and not obligation, as it’s truly a remarkable hybrid of crowd-pleasing catchiness and deceptively advanced musicianship.

Peart’s playing is mostly reserved but not without fitting showmanship here and there, just as Lifeson’s riffs balance sleekness and aggressiveness quite well. Of course, none of that would matter (and “Tom Sawyer” wouldn’t have appeared in handfuls of entertainment properties) if it weren't led by debatably the most popular and addictive keyboard motif in all of progressive rock.

It joins classics such as Kansas’ “Carry On Wayward Son” and Yes’ “Roundabout” as a quintessential example of the relatively niche genre producing something that becomes a huge part of the culture. In other words, even people who’ve never heard of progressive rock (or Rush) know “Tom Sawyer,” and you can’t say that it doesn’t deserve the love.